


Summerland (a place for us)

by failurebydesign



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 04:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17676167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/failurebydesign/pseuds/failurebydesign
Summary: “What’s up Barzy?” Tito smiles, answering quicker than Mat expects. He’s sitting somewhere bright, backwards baseball cap on his head looking tanned and well-rested. It’s a sight for sore eyes after the end of an emotionally exhausting season.“You want to come out to Summerland for the weekend?” Mat bites his bottom lip, hoping his look is convincing enough. If not, he’s got plenty of tricks up his sleeve. “Okanagan Lake is pretty sick.”( Or Mat, the third wheel, convinces Tito to take a weekend trip to Summerland, BC. )





	Summerland (a place for us)

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if you found this upon googling, exit immediately. This is a complete work of fiction and in no way am I implying that anything written in here is true. Stories are not meant to be circulated or shared with those written in them. All is loosely based on some real events, that is all.
> 
> After Mat's summer series came out, I had desperately wanted something that took place in Summerland, BC. This ended up being buried in my drafts along with everything else and so I recently decided to dust it off and finish it up.
> 
> Special thanks to glazedsun who beta'd and everyone who read, cheerleaded or even heard me talk about this for months on end only to abandon it and then do it all over again. Shout out to Ellie for inspiring the title. That's always the worst part and you made it easy for me.

Mat likes to think he knows Dante pretty well. They’ve been best friends longer than he can remember, having been forced together via midget hockey at a young age. He remembers meeting Dante, pink-cheeked and a little off the wall— someone he didn’t foresee he’d be considering college with years down the road. 

What started off as a normal friendship grew from jokes at the rink to family vacations and trips to Dante’s family cabin on the lake. He remembers the first time they went, eyes wide at the size of the place. Dante was being modest when he called it a cabin.

From that moment on, summer became their thing.

They picked up friends in their respective teams along the way, like Tyson, who Dante takes to immediately. Mat isn’t jealous, per se— he knows he’s Dante’s best friend— it’s just… annoying to share. It’s why he chooses to spend his winters meeting a whole new circuit of people through his stint in the WHL, while Dante who chose college, away from Mat— away from their learned routine, becomes less of a constant in his life.

It’s why Mat makes sure to go home each summer, hoping to preserve that one thing they’ve still got.

They’re inseparable from the second the sun rises to long after the sun has set, nights spent laughing by the fire. Last summer took Mat away, keeping him busy in preparation for what he hoped would be his first full season in the NHL. _I can’t go this year_ , Mat recalls, frowning when Dante’s face dropped.

The NHL, Mat learns, doesn’t wait.

One full season. 85 points. The Calder trophy.

One full _successful_ season, Mat decides. His spot earned, his captain gone, Mat doesn’t rest. He spends most of his summer training, despite his friends telling him to let loose and relax a little. He’s _earned_ it.

Dante must think Mat’s ridiculous, blowing up his phone every other weekend with the same request: _Summerland?_

Mat doesn’t mean to ditch, again, he just… has obligations. They train together, so it isn’t like he’s completely neglecting his friends. Dante tells him how excited he is for school and they exchange stories in between stretches. Typical gym conversation.

It’s why the next time they talk throws Mat for a complete loop.

“So I’m dating Tyson,” Dante casually says one day over FaceTime.

It comes as a complete surprise, though Mat knows it shouldn’t. He fumbles with his phone, nearly dropping it on his face. Mat knows they’re tight— the _three_ of them are— or were, he thought. “Wait, what the fuck?”

“Yeah.” Dante’s calm, smiling and _oh god_ , Mat thinks. _They’re in love_. It’s bound to make his next trip to the lake awkward. “So if you can make it this weekend, I’d— we’d appreciate it. We haven’t seen much of you all summer. Would be great to get the gang back together.”

“Did you just say _we_?” Mat sits up, incredulous. “How long have you two been— we _literally_ just saw each other the other day.” He’s not jealous— _really_ , but Mat knows Dante— how he’s sometimes a little too soft, leading with his heart when most would lead with their head. Mat knows he doesn’t say _we_ easily. _We_ implies so much more.

Dante exhales and Mat can just about make out another voice, soft and whispering in the background. “Officially? About a month? But dude, in my defense, we haven’t told anyone yet. We wanted to make sure it was worth trying out first.”

Mat hears the voice again, a little louder this time, and doesn’t have to ask. He knows it’s Tyson. He also knows _officially_ means it’s gone on much longer than Dante’s admitting.

“Fine,” Mat says rather sternly, something suddenly stirring up emotions he didn’t know existed. He’s missed countless trips to the lake, jokes between his friends and now, to his surprise, a relationship he never saw coming. “I’ll go.”

“Don’t make me twist your arm.” Dante looks over his shoulder, head tilted as if listening to something, then, slowly, turns back again. “There’s going to be a big group of us. Tyson said to invite Tito.”

Mat considers, except— “Tito’s in Montreal, dude.”

“There’s things called airplanes, Barz,” Tyson shouts. Clearly he’s heard the entire conversation. 

It annoys Mat and honestly, he’d hang up, except he owes Dante a lot— for ditching him, for being far too busy, for being so self-absorbed that he’s gone blind to whatever _this_ whole thing is. Then, the _this_ seems to form right before his eyes, Tyson popping his head onto the screen. 

“Are you coming or not? I’m inviting Tito either way.” Tyson’s smile is smug— Mat doesn’t doubt he’ll do it. He’s got his own phone in his hands, waving it around when he moves out of frame and Dante reappears. 

“What the f— I said okay,” Mat says with a groan, because the thought of Tito going without him— questioning _him_ why he isn’t there— is slightly worse than the idea of Mat being stuck a third wheel while Dante and Tyson make eyes at one another all weekend. “Just let me invite Tito, alright?”

“Great, see you then!” Dante disconnects before Mat’s fully processed what he’s just agreed to.

..

“What’s up Barzy?” Tito smiles, answering quicker than Mat expects. He’s sitting somewhere bright, backwards baseball cap on his head looking tanned and well-rested. It’s a sight for sore eyes after the end of an emotionally exhausting season.

“You want to come out to Summerland for the weekend?” Mat bites his bottom lip, hoping his look is convincing enough. If not, he’s got plenty of tricks up his sleeve. “Okanagan Lake is pretty sick.”

Tito looks off to the side, mouth twisting slightly like he actually needs some time to think about this, then nods. “Yeah, why not. I just got back from a training retreat. I could use a little relaxation. I’ll fly out Friday.”

It’s Tuesday.

Still, Thursday is plenty of time for Mat to drop the news on his friends. It isn’t like Tito is infiltrating a top secret group— he’s friends with Tyson and has heard enough about Dante over the years to practically know him. Mat wonders if there’s an unspoken divide, like his BC friends couldn’t possibly understand Tito and his French Canadian quirks. Then he remembers Dante spends most of his year in Boston— a place he knows is _nothing_ like where either of them grew up.

“Oh thank God,” Mat says quickly, sighing in relief. He’ll have other friends there— there’s always a big group— but Tito coming is nice, like a bit of insurance once everyone else has coupled off. It’s inevitable, he knows, now that Dante and Tyson are, like, a thing.

“Wait, what do you mean _thank God_?” Tito seems to turn sideways, having tilted his phone as he laughs. “You’re not exactly selling me on this trip. I said yes, what’s the catch?”

“No catch, man. The lake’s awesome.” Mat likes to think he recovered quickly, but knows Tito can see right through him.

“Okay,” Tito says, pressing his mouth into a thin line. As suspected, Mat knows he isn’t buying his white lie. “So it’s the company that sucks then?”

“No, you know most of them.” Mat counts four other guys out on his hand, sure more will show up come the day of. “Tyson will be there.”

“Josty Tyson?” Tito grins. “Sweet.”

“Yes,” Mat says, rolling his eyes. “You two can be idiots all day. It’ll be like Denmark all over again.” He thinks back to the day Tito chased Tyson along the boardwalk, the two of them laughing and shoving each other while he followed a short distance behind.

“Not all day,” Tito laughs, clearly recalling the day. “You could have done more than walk behind us like a broody boy band member who was too cool for a little game of tag.” Tyson is fun, he’s charismatic and willing to go a step above what Mat considers fun. Mat would be jealous if he wasn’t used to Tyson swooping in and being the life of any party.

“You want to be that guy who gets injured during Worlds?” Mat exhales, knowing he’s fighting a losing battle. “Pretty sure people still give Tyson Barrie shit for that wrestling thing.”

“Yeah, _wrestling_ ,” Tito says with a little grin. They’ve both heard the stories, though Mat tends to be a little more cautious than Tito. He’s not one to take risks when a medal is at stake. Neither bring up that it doesn’t matter. They placed fourth.

The memories bring up things Mat doesn’t particularly want to think about, turning his focus to something bigger and brighter— Fun in the sun, Summerland and Tito. “See you Friday, man,” Mat finally says, thoughts a bit clearer.

“See ya,” Tito replies, smile wider than ever when they end the call.

..

The rest of the week goes a little too quickly. Mat is texted Tito’s flight information on Thursday morning, when he’s finishing up his own packing. On Friday afternoon, Mat barely has time to settle in until a taxi cab pulls up, dropping Tito off.

“Long time no see, man.” Tito pulls Mat into a sideways hug, patting his back. To be fair, Vegas wasn’t _that_ long ago but Mat nods, agreeing. A few months without one of your best friends can get pretty lame.

Mat only pulls away an arm’s length, hands still at Tito’s biceps to look him over. “Still look like the same old idiot though.”

Tito laughs, head shaking, hands swatting at one of Mat’s arms. He’s nicely tanned, a bit of brown hair sticking out from the hole of his backwards baseball cap. There’s something boyish and innocent about him when he adjusts the bag over his shoulder, collar of his white t-shirt stretching slightly from the added weight.

“Come on, I’ll show you your room.” Mat leads the way, taking Tito through the front, helping him get his luggage up the stairs. They pass the first bedroom— the master that Dante quickly claimed. Mat didn’t argue— he happily took the upper room, just a perfect ear shot out of range.

Tito looks around as they move, seemingly impressed by the place. Mat knows Tito’s New York apartment well and only been to his Montreal apartment once, briefly during the season— both, though small, were nice enough for what he needed, but nothing compared to the lake house that Dante’s parents owned.

“Right here,” Mat says when he reaches the door, pushing it open. It’s the room he purposely avoided— too proud to get ready in the morning in front of large, anchor-shaped mirror. 

Tito snorts at the nautical-themed bedding, rolling his shoulder to drop his bag at the bed’s foot. “Wow, the captain of S.S. Knickknack out of town this weekend?”

“Something like that.” Mat laughs, wincing at the curtains, long with blue and white vertical stripes. He likes the house, _loves_ the lake, but would throw those curtains in the bonfire no questions asked. Tito opens them, gives a similar telling look, and Mat’s so glad they’re on the same page.

“You’re such an ass,” Tito finally says, turning back towards him. “Let me see your room.”

“Nope.” Mat grins, knowing his room— simple and neutral with an amazing view is one he knows Tito wouldn’t think twice about coercing Mat into trading for. “I know your ways.”

“Okay but it’s my first time here, so at least give me the grand tour.” He smiles, softly, and Mat, despite knowing it’s probably a trick, can’t say no to that.

Mat nods, showing him around the place. Tito is most impressed with the back patio that’s parallel to the lake. It’s one of the better views on the property, Mat thinks, and Tito seems to agree, pulling his phone out to take a photo. 

Tyson looks over, waving from his spot at the water’s edge, sprawled out and sunbathing on an inflatable raft. Tito smiles, waves back and then bumps Mat’s elbow when Dante’s head pops up just inches away from Tyson’s. Dante grins, hand pressed to Tyson’s chest and when they go back down, laughing and oddly close, Tito’s eyes widen. “Guess we’ll have to burn that raft.”

“Seriously, guys?” Mat shields his eyes, turning to go back inside. “If we’re burning shit, I’m going to go get those curtains from your bedroom then.” He hears a laugh— not Tito’s like he had hoped— _Dante’s_ and walks a little faster.

“Wait for me!” Tito shuffles in alongside Mat, stopping him once they reach the kitchen. He exhales, maybe having seen too much, focusing on Mat instead. “When were you going to tell me they were fucking?”

“I mean, it’s not like a big deal or anything,” Mat says, unconvincing. It’s _not_ a big deal and yet, when he really thinks about it, it kind of _is_.

Dante, one of his oldest friends— the one who was always there to confide and be confided in— kept this from him for a full month. He feels a little bit distant and a whole lot of stupid wondering how much he’s missed in his friends’ lives— if maybe Tito has a secret, too.

Tito shrugs. “It’s kind of a big deal. Tyson brought him up a few times in Denmark and I assumed they were on their way to Bonetown.”

“ _Bonetown_?” Mat repeats it, wanting to laugh because it’s kind of funny and yet— God, he thinks. His best friends are all idiots. “Wait, you knew?”

“Sort of.” Tito shrugs again and quickly adds, “I mostly guessed. He denied it, but you know how Tyson’s face gets when he’s talking about something he’s into. It was so obvious.”

It’s a small detail, one Mat isn’t sure how he missed. Denmark was fun, or should have been, but it was also a time for redemption— a tournament that came shortly after a less than ideal season, missing out on a playoff run with no option but to play world hockey. And then that, like the season, went to shit. Mat doesn’t think he stressed, then remembers Tito leaving him behind at the rink, exploring Denmark with some of the other guys— Tito laughing and having a good time despite it all.

He wonders if things would have been different had the rest of the team pushed harder— been more serious about it. Not that it matters at the tail end of summer. They lost and Tito, like Mat, was equally crushed.

“Denmark kind of sucked,” Mat decides.

He can’t tell if Tito agrees, but is content enough with the slight nod that follows.

Mat’s room ends up being the last stop on the tour. He’s not at all surprised when Tito ends up laying on his bed, comfortable in the his air-conditioned bliss, staring up at the slanted ceiling.

“I’m not trading rooms,” Mat says, sitting on the bed to try and edge Tito out. “The other room has a bigger bed anyway. It’s just… “

“Ugly?”

“God,” Mat laughs. “So ugly.”

There’s a bit of noise downstairs, enough for Tito sits up and check his watch. Mat doesn’t mind if they spend the rest of the evening there, but then someone mentions grilling— a second voice calling for Mat— and Tito pats his stomach with a smile. “Sounds like they need our help.”

“Okay, okay,” Mat says after somewhat of a groan mixed into a laugh. “But I'm not grilling. You’ll just chirp me when I burn it all.”

“Please,” Tito responds. “There’s so many better things I can chirp you for. The weekend’s just begun.”

Mat wrinkles his nose when Tito slips away into the hallway with a wink. He’s quick to follow after, making a run for it— Tito may have the last word, but Mat’s taking the victory lap.

..

“Good job on the burgers,” Dante says, looking past Mat, straight to Tito. Mat knows he didn’t do much to contribute, but he also knows, from experience, Dante can cook a burger. Skipping out on it, he’s pretty sure, was just an excuse to make out with Tyson.

“Mat helped.” Tito smiles and it’s a nice compliment that Mat’s happy to receive until— “He was really good at putting the cheese on them.”

“Cheesy guy, eh?” Tyson raises his eyebrows and the group, except for Mat, laughs.

“You’re all idiots,” Mat says instead, almost too fondly when he catches Tito smiling at him. 

“I might be an idiot,” Tito says, taking a big bite, “but I can cook.”

“We’ll cook next time,” Tyson promise, giving Dante a not-so-secret smile confirming everything Mat already knew. “Breakfast tomorrow okay?”

Dante nods. “We’ll make some killer omelettes.”

“Just keep your tongues to yourselves until they’re finished,” Tito says, laughing when Mat just about chokes on his next bite of food.

Tyson doesn’t seem phased, smile the proudest Mat’s seen yet. “Can’t make any promises there.” He winks at Dante who’s caught off guard by Tyson’s mouth, reciprocating the kiss and turning beet red within seconds.

It’s the first time Dante’s openly vulnerable around the group and while it isn’t like him to be downright coy, Mat gets it. They’re no longer just a group of guys sitting around, shooting the shit. Tyson and Dante are a real couple.

“Seriously.” Mat pretends to gag and Tito laughs, encouraging him to carry on about his friends and their sudden need for outwardly parading their PDA. “If you two are going to make out, at least get a room.” 

“My place,” Dante mumbles against Tyson’s lips with a laugh.

“Well it’s been fun,” Mat says, standing, “but I’m going to get the bonfire going.”

Tyson makes a noise— a laugh, Mat thinks— but it’s muffled and he isn’t looking anymore. They’ve become far too handsy. It’s then he decides he just may throw himself into the fire pit.

“I can help.” Tito throws a balled up napkin that ends up bouncing off of Tyson’s knee. It does no good in separating them, but gives Mat a reason to walk faster.

“Great, perfect, lets go,” Mat says, quick cross the lawn. He can hear them laughing when Tito, amused and laughing himself, kneels down to asses the fire pit. “Hurry up, _please_.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Tito grabs a box of matches, motioning over his shoulder. “They’re going inside.”

“Good,” Mat mutters, shifting his focus to the fire pit. He knows where the wood is kept from past summers, going to grab a few extra pieces while Tito rearranges a few pieces already in the freshly cleaned pit.

By the time it’s lit, the sun rests low in the sky, just above the mountains. It’s the first time Mat’s watched the sunset all summer and it’s almost fitting that he’s doing so with Tito at his side. Tito turns away from the fire and tilts his head, staring out in complete awe.

“Do you ever get tired of this?” Tito’s voice is soft, completely taken by the view.

“The lake?” Mat hates to admit that he _is_ used to it. Summer nights on the lake more often than not begin with some of the most beautiful sunsets Mat has ever seen. Years of sitting on the deck, swimming in the lake and being surrounded by the beauty must have settled somewhere amongst the list of things that have become routine to him. 

Tito, on the other hand, remains impressed. “The sky. The lake. All of this. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s _okay_ ,” Mat says, smiling when Tito’s jaw drops. “You forget I come here almost every summer. After awhile you’re kind of used to the way the sky looks and focus on other things, like getting really drunk.”

Tito shakes his head, pulling out his phone to snap a few photos. It’s one of the first times in a long while Mat finds he appreciates the sunset for what it is, vast and colorful. It becomes the backdrop that surrounds Tito, making him stand out and though Mat doesn’t pull out his phone, he takes a mental snapshot. It’s a moment he hopes to remember.

They stay like that for a little while longer, until the sun dips behind the mountains and the sky changes color again. Tito takes a few more photos, Mat tending on the dying, neglected fire. He tosses on some wood, pulling up a chair and waits for darkness.

..

“So,” Tito says, poking Mat’s knee through the rip in his jeans. “When were you going to admit you invited me here so you didn’t have to third-wheel all weekend?”

Mat ducks his head, hoping to hell it’s dark enough out that Tito can’t tell his cheeks flush with embarrassment. It’s a call out if he’s ever heard one. “I, uh. You know it’s wasn’t _just_ like that.”

“Yeah.” Tito smiles fondly, hand resting just above Mat’s knee. “But you’re jealous?”

“No,” Mat says, eyes closing briefly when Tito’s thumb brushes both fabric and the slightest bit of exposed skin. He _is_ jealous— a little— but Tito being there, distracting him, _comforting_ him is the band-aid he didn’t know he needed to soothe his bitter heart. He’s pretty sure that Tito, wide-eyed and full of wonder paired with the sky painted pink and orange is what did him in.

Tito slides his hand away, laughing, leaning and picking up a stick. He pokes at the fire a little, the two of them watching as burnt up pieces of matter fly up towards the sky. “You’re the worst liar, Barzy.”

“Hey.” Mat feigns offended, but really, Tito’s right. 

It’s not like he means to wear his emotions on his sleeve sometimes— everything— _everything_ he does is never done without putting full effort into it. Mat can’t help that he lives a life full of intensity and determination. He’s a fighter, a go-getter, albeit a little obsessive. Mat is just… Mat.

“Hey,” Tito mimics, dropping the stick to give Mat his undivided attention.

“Why would I be jealous?” Mat runs his fingers over a frayed edge of his jeans, index finger brushing over the very spot Tito had moments earlier. Picking at a single thread, he looks to Tito for an answer. “It’s not like I want to date him, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Nah, I get it.” Tito’s smile is soft and sympathetic and just like that, resting— not just back on Mat’s knee— on top of his hand, too, squeezing as just enough to as if to tell Mat he understands. “When my brother first started dating his girlfriend, I was insanely jealous.”

“Yeah?” Mat nods, looking down at Tito’s hand. “But you still hang out.”

“When we’re home for the summer, yeah.” Tito pats Mat’s knee and then, again, two times too many, pulls his hand away. “We’re kind of inseperable then.”

Tito’s smile fades just slightly and it’s enough for Mat to realize just why. His summer— a short window of time crammed full of charities and training— is his time to spend with his brother. It’s precious, coveted time that Tito, without a second thought, divided up, giving yet another piece of it exclusively to Mat.

“Shit,” Mat says when he realizes what it means, the guilt washing over him instantly. “And I made you ditch him for the weekend. What an asshole I am.”

Rolling his eyes, Tito bumps Mat’s side. “I came out here because I wanted to.”

“And for the swimming, I know,” Mat says. “I’ve seen your summer of shirtless photos.”

“What did you think?” Tito asks, so simple, so unexpectedly. 

“Uhh, What?” Mat just about stutters, his mind becoming a flipbook of photos— Tito on the beach in Barcelona, Tito hiking, smiling at the top of his climb, Tito balancing on a paddleboard at a retreat, Tito, tanned and relaxed, enjoying his summer like he should. They’re photos he’s seen and apparently, unknowingly, memorized. 

“Good way to brand myself for the summer, right?” Tito grins, flexing a little and even though he’s wearing a shirt, Mat can see why he’s been showing off.

“Must not be working for you if you’re here.” Mat grins, thinking he’s funny, because between Ibiza and his retreat, he’s sure Tito’s spent quite a bit of his summer hooking up.

“Or maybe I need a break,” Tito says, laughing. Mat can tell he’s kidding. Tito’s never been good at keeping it casual before his heart gets in the way. If he isn’t… well, he isn’t thinking about that.

“This is a good place to relax,” Mat decides, alternating between watching the fire as it burns low and Tito who chews on his bottom lip, poking at the ashes in attempts to get it going again. The back door slams shut and Mat jumps, turning just in time to see Tyson appear, Dante, a bit sheepish, close behind.

They pull up chairs and it’s Dante who clears his throat and is the first to address the metaphorical elephant in the room. “Whatever you think we did… you’re probably right.”

Tyson smirks.

“Dude,” Mat says, wrinkling his nose. “Spare us the details, please.” He’s slightly won over by Dante handing him a beer, even if he knows it’s a _sorry-I-ran-off-with-my-boyfriend_ peace offering. A few more and he’ll forget about it all. He hopes.

“I was going to suggest we make smores.” Tyson laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But we sort of forgot to buy marshmallows.”

Mat doesn’t answer. He doesn’t care to know _how_ they forgot, but has an idea. Instead, he looks up to the sky, Tito’s gaze following. “Guess we’ll just have to enjoy nature,” he says, as if he hadn’t taken it for granted for the past few years of his life.

Tito seems happy enough to look up at the clear sky, trying to point out constellations he doesn’t know the name of. “I think that’s Ryan’s belt.”

“Orion,” Dante says quietly.

“What?” Tito turns his head, looking as if Dante has two heads. “I don’t think he was Irish.”

Dante opens his mouth to speak, shakes his head and closes it again. “Barz.”

“What?” Mat shrugs. He doesn’t know much about the sky or the stars in it, just that Tito is engrossed in whatever he’s looking at. If he says the star’s name is Ryan then who is he to argue. “We’re not all college kids, show off.”

“I learned this when I was like, five, you idiot.” Dante laughs, pointing past the cup of the Big Dipper. “And that’s not the Little Dipper next to the handle. It’s further this way, upside-down.”

“Huh,” Tyson says, craning his neck to look up at the sky. “You learn something new each day.”

Tito, slightly dejected, shrugs. “Who cares about the names, anyway?”

“I don’t,” Mat mumbles, which is slightly a lie. He cared when it was Tito telling him about them. 

..

Mat’s hair still smells like a campfire when he crawls into bed. His eyes are heavy, tired from what he can only chalk up to getting too much sun. They had all planned to get some sleep early, but then another mutual friend showed up and Tito was quick to hand over his bedroom.

“It’s not a problem. Barzy has a big couch I can sleep on.” Tito grins. “Right?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Mat says, waving his hand dismissively. He doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into until it’s too late. Tito wastes no time dragging his bags into the room, dropping them alongside the wall.

“I promise I won’t make too much noise.” Tito laughs when the pillow Mat tosses hits him square in the chest. He sets it on the chair, grinning. 

Mat crosses his arms, contemplating what that means. “You better not make _any_ noise.”

“Good night Barzy,” Tito says, smile smug yet content from his spot on the oversized chair.

Mat knows he must feel pretty proud of himself for working things out the way he did— pawning the ugly room off was easily as he did. He thinks Tito must be ridiculous, happy to give up his bed— content to sleep on a chair in a room with Mat all for the sake of not having to look at that awful decor anymore. 

“You’re going to be so stiff tomorrow.” Mat laughs, reaching over to flip off the light.

“You sleep in the chair then,” Tito says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Nice try.” Mat props himself up against a pillow, watching as Tito settles into the chair, pulling a quilt over himself with a yawn. He almost feels bad, but then remembers there’s plenty of rooms to sleep in that don’t involve Mat giving up his.

“Maybe tomorrow then,” Tito mumbles, the side of his face pressed against the pillow. Mat doesn’t have time to answer. By the time he laughs, Tito’s already asleep.

When Mat wakes again, he thinks it’s around 7:00 AM, but it’s actually closer to 4:00. There’s a loud thud that makes him open his eyes, squinting to adjust in the dark. It’s Tito, of course.

“The fuck are you doing?” Mat doesn’t dare turn on the light— he values his eyeballs.

“This couch _really_ sucks,” Tito says in a drawn out whine.

“I’m not sleeping there, dude.” Mat sighs, rolls over and pulls the blankets over his head. He doesn’t move when Tito sighs— loudly— and he doesn’t move when Tito grumbles, crawling into bed next to him. He’s simply frozen, as if time stops the moment Tito’s knee brushes the back of his leg.

“Good night, Barzy,” Tito repeats for the second time that night.

Mat, full of internal panic, doesn’t answer. He pretends to sleep instead.

..

By morning, Mat slips out of bed, quick to offer up his hand in omelette making. He’s, of course, shooed out of the kitchen and decides he can get a workout in while he’s waiting for Tito to realize he’s missing.

It isn’t that he’s avoiding Tito— he _isn’t_ — he’s just taking a break until he can breathe again without picturing the way Tito breathes softly, remembering how he, too, smells just like a campfire.

When noon rolls around, they’re all back where they started— the lake.

Tito laughs loudly, head back and eyes creasing at the corners— water rising and falling as he leans against the paddle board, propped up by his elbows. 

Mat considers pushing him off, back into the lake just to watch him go under and surface again with another laugh, but then he focuses— _really focuses_ — on Tito’s smile, deciding he doesn’t want to miss another second of it.

“Can I come up or are you going to just throw me back in again?” Tito runs a hand through his wet hair, already pulling himself up on to the board before Mat can answer.

“Didn’t exactly give me a choice,” Mat says, turning his face up to the warmth of the sun. When he tilts his head back down, Tito, dripping wet and still smiling, leans forward, palms pressed against the base of the board to keep himself from toppling back over.

“I should throw you in now,” he says, inching closer to Mat. Tito laughs, stopping when their knees bump and he’s steady on the board.

“I mean you could but that would be a dick move.” Mat braces himself, knowing it’s coming. Tito’s face softens, but if Mat knows Tito well, and he does, it’s just a rouse.

The whirr of a jet ski distracts them and Mat turns his head just in time to catch Dante and Tyson speed by, Tyson’s arms looped tightly around Dante’s middle. They’re laughing, Tyson’s chin resting upon Dante’s shoulder, like they’re stupidly in love and seconds away from riding off into the sunset.

Mat doesn’t mean to roll his eyes, nor does he mean for Tito to notice— it just… happens.

“Wow,” Tito says, laugh small. “And you’re worried about me being a dick?”

“They’re like seconds away from marriage, don’t spin this on me and act like it isn’t weird.” Mat rolls his eyes again, this time for emphasis.

“It’s new.” Tito shrugs like perhaps it’s normal— like Mat’s the odd one in the scenario. “Haven’t you ever been in love before?” He reaches out, poking Mat’s knee and his smile, a bit goofy— eyes dreamy— say it all, because of course— leave it to Tito to be a goddamn romantic in the midst of Mat’s crisis.

Mat just wrinkles his nose.

“Right, I forgot,” Tito says. “Big bad Barzy doesn't date.”

“Hey, fuck off,” Mat says, sitting up straight and making the board wobble dangerously. “Don’t act like your life isn’t a constant cycle of swiping right.”

“Yeah.” Tito leans back just enough to bask beneath the sun, smile content. If he’s offended by being called out on his hook up methods, it doesn’t show. “But I still take them on dates. I don’t just fuck _everybody_.”

“What does dinner have to do with love anyway?” Mat flicks a bit of water, laughing when Tito lowers his head, attention back on Mat. He doesn’t mean to look longer than usual, but the sun _does_ something to Tito— reflecting off of eyes, brightening them. Even his skin seems to glow, tanned and sun kissed, like he’s spent this entire summer this way.

“It’s not the dinner part, stupid.” Tito’s words, though insulting, have no malice— even that seems to draw Mat in, watching as he skims his fingers across the top of the lake. “It’s all about conversation. How else do you expect to get to know someone? You don’t learn anything interesting in bed.”

Mat grins, pretty sure he’s learned plenty that way. “I beg to differ.”

“You know what I mean.” Tito shakes his head, smile staying put. “Besides, that isn’t interesting, that’s just fun.”

They fall silent, listening to the crash of the waves, Mat feeling content in Tito’s presence. Mat considers, briefly, what it would be like to lean in, mouth pressing to Tito’s— if it would be romantic or just plain stupid. He inches closer, mostly out of instinct and Tito seems to do the same.

They’re quiet, Mat focused on Tito’s mouth— Tito seemingly focused on his. He barely registers Tito’s fingertips when they touch his leg, eyes already closed when he leans in.

And then a loud whirr of an engine, coupled with the cold slap of wave to the side of his face jolts him upright, grasping for anything to steady him. It’s Tito who goes over first, two loud, satisfied laughs the last thing Mat hears before he breaks the surface. 

“Fuckers,” Mat says when he resurfaces, running a hand through his wet hair. Tito laughs. Of course.

..

The following night starts off the same, Tito in the chair, but Mat barely has his eyes closed before Tito protests. He doesn’t remember saying _yes_ , but knows he never said no, either.

When Mat wakes up, Tito is curled into his side, breath soft and shallow. It isn’t the first time he’s crawled into bed with him and likely not to be the last. Tyson laughs downstairs and Mat knows sooner or later, Tito will stir and awaken. In the meantime, Mat stays perfectly still, watching the way his chest rises and falls. 

“Don’t wake them up,” Dante says over the clatter of what Mat knows is pots and pans. He can easily picture Dante mixing pancake batter while he and Tyson steal glances across the kitchen.

“Disgusting,” Mat mumbles under his breath— like his eyes aren’t soft and focused on Tito who’s mouth curls into a smile. He freezes, not ready for Tito to wake up. Waking up means moving apart and he isn’t quite ready for that just yet.

Tito moves, just barely, to shift comfortably, arm brushing Mat’s side. He watches, carefully, eyes heavy, mind curious. He hopes if Tito’s dreaming it’s something good— that dream Mat is present and the reason he’s smiling ever-so-faintly. And then, drifting in and out of his own dream world, Mat falls back asleep.

Mat’s phone buzzes on the table next to him, waking him from his light slumber. He’s already groggy, having slept no more than fifteen minutes, but thankful for a text over a literal wake up call.

It doesn’t say more than _Breakfast_ paired with a thumbs up emoji, but Mat knows Dante well enough to know that it means it’s served. He can tell by the sweet smell of maple syrup and clanking of silverware— a sign that they’ve already started without them.

“Let me get them,” Tyson says, a little louder this time, but Dante’s _no_ is firm. Mat’s thankful. The last thing he wants is for Tito to be woken up by Tyson flinging himself onto the mattress. As far as they know, Tito’s fast asleep in the big, oversized recliner and _not_ pressed against Mat, snoring softly. 

That’s a conversation Mat’s not quite ready to have.

Mat yawns, rubbing his eyes and despite being reluctant to move, does, because he knows if he doesn’t, Dante won’t think twice to send Tyson up. It’s a slight shift of the mattress, but it’s just enough to gently wake Tito.

“Morning,” Tito mumbles, looking at his watch with a yawn. “It’s so _early_.” His eyebrows furrow, as if to ask why they’re up as early as they are.

“Breakfast,” Mat says, pulling on a hoodie. “If you want some waffles, you better get downstairs before Tyson gets to them. There won’t be any left.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tito snorts, sitting up. “You know he’s on his third plate.”

Mat laughs, opening the door and just about jumps out of his skin. Tyson’s standing on the other side, hands on his hips.

“Three plates?” Tyson raises an eyebrow, laughing. “I had _two_ thank you.”

“Fuck off,” Mat says, shoving past him with a laugh. Tito, slightly sheepish and mouthing an apology, follows.

..

Mat opts out of swimming to lay in the sun and avoid the ridiculous that continues to surround Dante and Tyson. He’s happy for them, really, even when they start to chase each other, stopping to alternate between dunking one another and kissing.

“God,” Tito says, sprawling out on a towel next to Mat. “You’d think they’re on their honeymoon or something.”

Mat laughs, rolling onto his stomach, propping himself up on his arms. “It only took you three days to notice.”

“No,” Tito says, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I noticed right away. But I’m not going to fault them for it. It’s Dante’s place anyway.”

“Yeah, but if I was making out with someone all weekend, he’d flip.” Mat thinks back to a few summers prior, when he and Dante were younger, dumber and both single— back when they made a promise to always meet back at the lake regardless of what their future brings.

Mat, sighing, realizes he’s the first to break that promise.

“What’s wrong?” Tito whispers, jolting Mat back to reality.

“Nothing,” Mat says, trying his best to ignore Dante’s loud laughter.

“Sounds fake.” Tito shrugs, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I know it sucks, but if you’re into him it’s probably a little too late.”

“What?” Mat sits up, laugh more bitter than he intends. “I’m not _into_ Dante.”

Tito shrugs, staring out at the lake. “Could have fooled me. You’ve been obsessing over him and Tyson all weekend.”

Something within Mat snaps like a twig. He wants to tell Tito to fuck off, that if he’s obsessed with _anyone_ , it’s probably him. How he didn’t stop Tito from crawling into bed with him because he preferred it— how this weekend ending means weeks without Tito and if anything, that’s more painful than a slightly drifting friendship.

He stands up, fists clenched, blood rising to his ears until they ring. Mat doesn’t mean to walk away without another word— there’s just nothing he _can_ say. It’s why, when Tito calls his name, he pretends not to hear. It’s also why he passes the lake, opting to lock himself in the bedroom he’s called his (theirs?) all weekend.

..

“If you’re not going to come out, at least let me in,” Dante says with a sigh. He’s the third person to knock and the only one Mat considers budging for.

“Why?” Mat doesn’t move, staring up at the ceiling, fan over him spinning— eyes focused until he’s dizzy.

Dante laughs. “Because it’s my house? And I’m the only one here who has the authority to knock down the door if I have to.”

Mat grumbles, pulling himself into a sitting position. “You wouldn’t.”

“Open the door, Mat.” Dante tries the handle— Mat can see it wiggle, despite it being locked. He hears another voice, softer, and knows it’s Tyson.

“I’ll open it, but,” Mat begins, pulling himself to his feet. “Just you. No one else.”

There’s a break, followed by a whispered conversation. The drawn out _fiiine_ that can only come from Tyson is the last thing he hears under a whisper, followed by footsteps. “Okay,” Dante finally says, louder. “Just me.”

Mat hesitates— because Dante’s his friend, but Dante could also be playing a trick on him, ready to spring a whole lot of chaos his way. He imagines opening the door, Dante laughing and shoving Tito in, then locking them together until they talk again. He doesn’t want that.

“Mat?” Dante says softly, doorknob wiggling again.

Mat, against his better judgement, unlocks the door. When it opens, to his relief, it’s only Dante in the doorway, frowning— just as reluctant to enter. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Mat says when he’s finally able to exhale. “This is okay.”

Once Dante’s inside, he shuts the door, looking more distressed than Mat feels. “What happened? I thought we were having fun?”

“I’m having a _ton_ of fun.” Mat doesn’t mean for his voice to drip with sarcasm. Until now, he’s rather enjoyed himself.

“Laying around in the bedroom?” Dante forces a laugh, motioning to the window. “Everyone’s out there swimming. Well, except for Tito. He’s—,” he stops, shrugging. 

“He’s?” Mat turns to the window. He doesn’t see Tito and the panic rises in him instantly, picturing Tito on a plane back to Quebec. It’s not logical— his belongings are still scattered about the bedroom. It’s a detail Dante quickly picks up on.

“How long have you two been doing it?”

Mat just about stutters. “Doing _what_?”

Dante laughs, shaking his head. “Each other, idiot.”

And Mat may be stupid, but he’s definitely _not_ doing that. “We’re not _doing it_ Fabbs, Jesus.”

“Okay,” Dante says, laughter subsiding, tone more serious. “Well why not?” 

Mat begins to pace, because ideally, he’d be okay with him and Tito doing _that_ — if it ever came down to it. He pictures Tito and the sunset and the lake and the stars and realizes that maybe the universe is suddenly beautiful for one reason— because Tito’s the center of said universe. That it’s not about _doing it_ — it’s about so much more.

“You think…?” Mat stumbles on his words.

“Me and Tys have a bet going,” Dante says with a shrug. “Tyson almost won the other day when you two were seconds away from making out in the lake.”

Mat, stomach turning, narrows his eyes.

“So it’s true.” Dante grins, eyes suddenly brighter. “You should go talk to him.”

“Wait, what?” Mat groans, running a hand over his face. He’s not surprised that Dante of all people is the most logical and perceptive in a situation Mat has absolutely no control over. He thinks about Tito, making excuses to sleep in his bed— the way his eyes fell when he was left convinced that Mat wanted _Dante_ of all people.

That’s when it hits him. “Fuck. Where is he?”

“Downstairs,” Dante says, giving Mat a pat on the arm. “Don’t be mad at him. He didn’t say anything to us. Just mumbled about what a stubborn ass you are.”

“Oh.” Which— _fair_ , Mat thinks. It’s what he deserves.

“Go talk to him.” Dante heads to the door, turning to look over his shoulder. “Promise we won’t cockblock you this time.”

Mat, rolling his eyes, shouts by the time Dante’s halfway down the hallway. “Thanks, asshole.”

..

It’s so quiet downstairs that Mat’s almost convinced Tito had fallen asleep on the couch until he rounds the corner, finding Tito’s eyes wide and focused on him. 

“I thought you left,” Mat says, which, in retrospect, is pretty stupid.

Tito softens, shaking his head, voice a little too strained for Mat’s liking. “No.”

He hears Tyson laugh, eyes moving to the window where Dante’s dunking him in the lake— again. It’s a gentle reminder that no matter what path he chooses, life continues to go on around him.

There no point of digging into the what-ifs. He could have spent every single summer with Dante and Tyson would still be there, weaving his way around Dante’s heart. Tito would remain waiting for him at the start of the season with or without a trip to the lake.

It’s Dante’s laugh followed by a splash that tells him they’d all end up here one way or another. That Dante and Tyson would fall in love but Mat, stupid and stubborn, would to.

“Look I—” Mat begins, cut off instantly by Tito’s hands waving and his voice that follows.

“I didn’t mean to be like, a jealous idiot or anything and ruin the whole trip.” Tito looks down at his hands, cheeks flushing. “Can we just forget about this and go back to being friends again?”

“We never stopped being friends,” Mat says, sitting in the vacant spot next to Tito. He’s slow when his head lifts, eyes crystal clear. Mat can’t help but wonder what Tito could possibly be jealous of and then that, like his eyes, becomes clear as well. “You really thought I was into Dante?”

“You talk about him all of the time.” Tito shrugs. “Even in Denmark. I swear, I thought for awhile you and Tyson were co-presidents of the Dante Fabbro fan club or something.”

“Yeah but he’s my best friend,” Mat says with a laugh, watching the way Tito’s face twists, imagining it matching the knot in his stomach. “My _longest_ friend. You’re my best friend, too. You can have two.”

Tito chews on his bottom lip, voice crackling when he speaks. “I don’t want to be your best friend.”

It’s then Mat’s stomach drops, exhaling, out of breath like a punch in the gut. He expected so much, Tito quiet and unable to look him in the eye again. Silently, he curses the sunset for making him fall in love and the lake from taking it all away. “You don’t?”

“Not _just_ that, I guess,” Tito whispers, setting the wheels in motion. Mat’s slow to move— reluctant, worried he’s about to fuck this up, too— but then Tito rolls his eyes and tugs Mat in for the kiss he didn’t know he’s been waiting for.

Mat, though briefly dumbstruck, kisses back.

..

There’s one last bonfire and Mat hardly notices the way Tyson can’t stop himself from staring at Dante. He’s too caught up in the way Tito’s hand fits in his— the way Tito stares, smiling just for him. He also pretends not to notice when Dante chirps them for being handsy— telling _them_ to get a room this time around.

Tito laughs it off, kissing Mat’s face and Mat, trying his best not to smile like an idiot, decides this is his best summer yet. 

In the fall, they’ll head back to Long Island ready for hockey and a whole winter to figure themselves out. It’s a little scary, full of uncertainty but if Mat knows one thing for sure, it’s that he’ll never take Summerland for granted again.

**Author's Note:**

> Currently dantefabbs on tumblr / dejadejayou on twitter.


End file.
